


Brave the Waters

by Lady_Bryght



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Love at First Sight, Minor Character Death, Mythology - Freeform, Sirens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2019-07-13 04:10:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16010006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Bryght/pseuds/Lady_Bryght
Summary: The rules are simple: obey, and keep the secret. After 100 years of service, each siren is given a second chance at a human life. Marinette has done her part and her time is almost up, but a green-eyed boy might convince her to risk everything.Based on the 2009 version of Kiera Cass's "The Siren."





	1. Raisonneur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raisonneur - a person in a play or book embodying the author’s viewpoint
> 
> You cannot save people; you can only love them. -Anais Nin

Copyright Charlie Bowater

_When you’ve hungered for something so long, the first taste of it can leave you breathless, desperate. It can make you foolish, can turn your practical mind into a strange world of excuses and justifications. You might find yourself running as fast as you can towards dangers you’ve always avoided. The obedience that has served you well all your life might suddenly shift into a hard-edged rebellion that frightens you._

_But you won’t turn back. You won’t give in to the whispers in your mind that preach conformity. If you die for this, you won’t regret it, for surely it is the very reason you were ever born. To deny it would be to live a life of emptiness, purposelessness._

_This love that you’ve discovered is worth whatever price it will cost. That’s what you promise yourself, hoping you’ll be brave when it’s time to face the consequences. He is worth it. He is worth it all._

77 Years Earlier

When the call comes, it isn’t what we were expecting. Alix and I are in a coastal South American town, watching people dance to the music of a small band. I’ve lost track of what country we’re in now. Brazil, maybe? Alix has her eyes closed and is swaying in time to the music. I force a smile as well, but seeing all the happy couples with hands on waists and bodies touching effortlessly has stirred up my discontent, which in turn awakens my guilt. I should be _thankful_ , shouldn’t I? Grateful for this second chance? Honored to be spared when the rest of my family wasn’t?

After all, it’s not as if I can never be a wife or a mother. I just have to wait and obey. The thought of obedience turns my mind to our upcoming task, and I feel sick. Always, these thoughts run laps through my mind. Longing, guilt, bitterness. It’s not who I want to be.

I’m watching a man dance with his partner, his large hands resting solidly on her hips. They’re staring into each other’s eyes and I can tell they’re in their own little world. She pulls his face down to hers and kisses him sweetly.

It’s almost a relief when I hear Her calling for us. I look questioningly at Alix, but she just shrugs. Just this morning She had said we probably wouldn’t be needed for a few days yet.

We slip away from the crowd and head toward the shore. Before we reach the water, we turn and run along the sand. It wouldn’t do for any of the beachgoers to see two girls go under the surface and never return. Not needing to breathe makes running easy, and we ignore the catcalls of men as we pass by them. I suppose they are speaking in Spanish, but it sounds like French to my ears. Another one of our gifts.

When we’ve found an empty stretch of beach, Alix and I slip into the waves. As the water touches us, the Ocean’s voice becomes strong and clear in our minds. We aren’t being summoned for a feeding at all. Rather, we might be getting a new sister. The knot of anxiety in my stomach loosens at this. The Ocean pulls us swiftly through Her waters, so quickly that our clothes are torn away. As we travel, new clothes form: shimmering gowns made of salt crystals.

They are flowy and timeless and beautiful, one of things I enjoy most about this second life of mine.

Our clothes may disappear, but Alix’s engagement ring does not, seemingly able to hold up against the crushing force of our speed through the water as well as our impenetrable bodies do. Alix has told me of her former life, how she was forced to bend to the will of her family and betrothed to a man she hated. She didn’t have the courage to flout the customs of her time, and in desperation chose to drown herself in the Ocean. It was only as her last breath was leaving her that she regretted the decisions that led her there.

She says I wouldn’t recognize the person she was then. She says the same thing can happen for me, that I can improve myself during my time as a siren.

It doesn’t take long for us to arrive at a stretch of empty shoreline. I wonder for a moment where in the world we are, but my focus quickly changes to the girl huddled and crying on the beach. Her long black hair covers her face but I can see her shoulders shaking. I wonder if Alix felt this swelling of concern and affection when she first saw me?

Our third sister, Chloe, has already arrived and is standing with arms crossed, facing away from the girl on the ground. “Took you guys long enough. Can you get her to shut up? I’m tired of these hysterics.”

“Some things never change,” Alix mutters, before going over to the girl and putting a hand on her shoulder. The sobs abruptly stop as the girl jumps in surprise and scrambles backward. Her copper eyes are full of fear, and then awe as she takes us in.

“Are you angels?” she asks. Chloe barks a laugh and I shoot her a glare.

“No,” says Alix with a sad smile. “We’re not angels. You’re not dead. What’s your name?”

The girl’s eyes glance between the three of us again before she answers. “Juleka. But I don’t understand. I fell out of the boat, and no one heard me, and I couldn’t breathe, and I was dying..and then…”

“You asked to live?” I venture a guess. I’ve seen the common element in our stories.

“Yes!” Juleka exclaims. “There was a voice - at least, I thought it was a voice, but I couldn’t make out what it was saying - and then water was rushing all around me and my throat hurt and the next thing I knew, I was here! You’re sure I’m not dead?”

Alix gives Juleka’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’m sure. But you’re not human anymore, either, and you’ve got a decision to make.” Juleka’s eyes widen at this statement. Alix continues, “My name is Alix. The blonde brat over there is Chloe, and this is Marinette.” She indicates toward me with a nod of her head. “We are sirens. Have you ever heard of a siren?”

Juleka shakes her head, eyes still wide and a look of apprehension growing in them.

“We are servants of the Ocean,” Alix says. “The Ocean provides for and sustains this planet, and in turn we sustain Her by helping Her gather Her food.” She pauses to see if Juleka will ask the obvious question.

She does. “What...does the Ocean eat?”

Alix glances at me, and I swallow before responding, “People. The Ocean eats people.”

Shock. Horror. Fear. I see it all in Juleka’s eyes. It’s a preposterous statement, like the punchline of an awful joke. How I wish it _was_ a joke.

Alix takes over again. “I know it sounds terrible, Juleka, and I won’t lie that it can be a difficult idea to come to terms with. But as I said, our planet _needs_ the Ocean. By helping Her take a handful of lives every year or so, we save _billions_. And if you serve faithfully, your reward will be a second chance at life. The Ocean will take away all memories of your time as a siren. You’ll be human again, but this time even better, because you’ve had time to cultivate in yourself the kind of traits you want to have. I have learned bravery. Marinette is learning patience. Chloe..well, we’re not sure what she’s learning, but there’s always a sour apple in every group.”

“ _Hey!_ ”

It’s just like Alix to try to make a joke at a time like this. I kneel in the sand in front of Juleka and take her hands. “It’s not easy, Juleka, I won’t lie to you. We are, essentially, weapons. Our voices are deadly to humans, and we don’t age, so we can really only spend time with each other. It can be lonely. But I believe it’s worth it for a second chance.”

She looks deep in my eyes, searching for something. “And if I don’t want to become a siren?

“Then we have to give you back to the Ocean. You were supposed to die today and you’re rightfully Hers.”

Her breathing speeds up a little but she doesn’t fall into hysterics. Already she’s doing so much better than I did when given these same facts. “How long?”

This is the hardest part, at least for me. As Alix said, I’m learning patience. “We each serve for a hundred years. Alix’s time is almost up, but I’m only a few years in, which means I’d be with you for most of your time...if you wanted, that is. You wouldn’t have to see much of Chloe, thankfully.”

“I can hear you, you know!”

I ignore her, keeping my eyes on Juleka. I hope she can see how much I want her to stay. She takes a few long moments to think, then says, “I want to stay. I want my second chance.”

Alix whoops and I wrap my arms around our new sister, rocking her back and forth. Chloe makes a gagging noise, but I don’t care.

When Alix leaves, I won’t be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is based on the original, self-published version of Kiera Cass’ “The Siren" (not the version found in bookstores). I am writing this as a tribute to Kiera Cass because I am a fan of her work. I have taken the basic plot and timeline of her book and replaced her characters with those from the Miraculous Ladybug universe. I feel that what I’ve made here is a genuine piece of “fan” fiction, meant to display my love of these two fandoms. I hope that this story will not be interpreted as an attempt to steal or benefit from the work of others, as that was never my intent.
> 
> This is a love story, but Adrien will not appear until Chapter 5. I hope you will stick around until then!


	2. Utinam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Utinam - a fervent wish
> 
> Live as if you were living a second time, and as though you had acted wrongly the first time. -Viktor Frankl

When Juleka finally stands up, I’m shocked to see that she’s taller than the rest of us. She seemed so small and helpless when crying on the sand. She, in turn, looks shocked to see that she’s wearing a flowing gown like the rest of us. Our dresses are a deep blue today. The color is a little different every time, but always drawn from the hues of the Ocean Herself.

Before we have a chance to talk about where we might go next, the Ocean is speaking again. I can hear Her discomfort in Her tones as She says we must help Her feed right away.

“Did you hear that?” I murmur to Juleka, who nods hesitantly. “That was the Ocean, speaking to us.”

“You heard words? It just sounded like whales singing, somewhere far away.”

“You’ll learn to understand Her in time,” Alix says. “We have to leave now. She needs to eat. I wish you didn’t have to do this so soon, but sparing you took energy She didn’t have to spare.”

Juleka’s hand squeezes tightly around my own and her breathing speeds up. I lead her gently to the water while whispering comforting words. “It’ll be okay. You can do this. Just trust the instinct that’s inside you now. You don’t have to hold your breath or try to swim. You might feel some of the cold because you’re so new, but it can’t hurt you. Nothing can hurt you anymore.”

Well, nothing can hurt her body anymore. Her heart is another matter altogether, and I feel like I’ve lied to her. She’ll find out soon enough.

When we are fully submerged, the Ocean pulls us in Her currents to darker, colder waters. Juleka has a death grip on my hand. I can’t imagine how frightening this must be for her. I was chosen during a feeding, so I had time to become adjusted to my new life before I was called to serve. The only bright side I can see is that our new sister will have plenty of time to recover before the next feeding.

We can feel the Ocean’s hunger as if it were our own, feel it in a way we never experience for real food anymore. Juleka, unused to the sensation, clutches her stomach with her free hand.

By the time we resurface, we are in a part of the Ocean where night has already fallen. I look around and see no sign of land, which is good, but no sign of anything that might cause a shipwreck either, which is strange. Usually our job is to distract the people onboard from an iceberg or shallow waters. Usually, there is some sort of alibi to explain away the tragedy. I shift nervously as Chloe ignores us all and lays on the surface of the water, as calm as if she were posing for a painting. She is striking as usual with her golden hair shimmering in the moonlight, one arm draped across her curves while she rests her head on the other. Alix joins Juleka and I by taking Juleka’s other hand.

“I know you’re scared,” she says, “but it’s very important that when the time comes, you open your mouth and sing. Don’t worry about not knowing how to do it. That’s part of the magic. But if you don’t sing, that’s as good as saying that you refuse to serve, and the Ocean will take you. Do you understand?”

Juleka takes a shuddering breath and nods.

“Don’t look at their faces,” I say. Advice I wish had been given to me. The victims of my first time serving are branded onto the backs of my eyelids. They haunt my dreams, grabbing my ankles with bloated, decaying hands. If sleep was a requirement for us instead of an occasional luxury, I would have already given up on this life.

Then the ship appears, huge and black with five masts that stretch high into the starry sky. It’s clearly a working ship, no doubt full of men who will easily succumb to our beauty and our voices. The Ocean gives the cue, and we open our mouths. The song comes out on its own, without any discernible lyrics from any one language. It’s meant to spark curiosity, to trigger a nostalgia that people can’t resist wanting more of. It’s soothing, but also exciting. The ship begins to change course, turning toward us.

I hate this, hate it more every time I have to do it. I try to think about it logically, think about how lions eat gazelles and sharks eat baby seals and everything on this earth is just a cycle of life and death, the hunter and the hunted. I remind myself that if the Ocean dies, every living thing on our planet will die as well. Sometimes small sacrifices are required for the greater good.

These thoughts don’t bring me any comfort.

Soon we can hear the shouts of the men. Some exclaim over the beauty of our song. Others are more crude. Before long they begin jumping from the deck of the ship, trying to swim to us. Most are swallowing water as they go and sink quickly, but others are more persistent. What if they reach us?

Just as I have that thought, the Ocean opens up under the ship and swallows it whole. It happens so quickly I might have missed it if I hadn’t been looking. All four of us are shocked into silence. The waters are calm, without a sign of what has just occurred, until fragments of the ship slowly rise to the surface. When I see a single boot bob up from Her depths, I close my eyes. That’s enough nightmare fuel.

I want nothing more than to just escape somewhere bright and warm where I can push the memory of this night away, but She gives us further instructions. We are to wait nearby. Mercifully, She takes us far enough away that we can’t see anymore of the detritus.

Juleka is beside herself, almost certainly traumatized by the violence of this feeding. I hold her and shush her and assure her that it’s never been like this before and probably won’t be again. When I’ve got her calmed down, the Ocean speaks to us. She apologizes for what we’ve had to witness, saying that She waited too long to feed, hoping that a shipwreck would occur naturally and She wouldn’t have to use us. I’m surprised by this, for I’ve turned Her into the villain in my head, a cruel master who has no concern for Her servants. She promises us She won’t let this happen again. I translate Her words for Juleka, who seems only slightly mollified.

The Ocean then surprises me again, saying it’s time for Alix to be released. My first friend in this life gasps.

“I still have almost a year though…”

Alix won't be needed to serve again before her time is up, so the Ocean is letting her go early. I should be happy for her, but this feels like another tragedy.

Alix looks at me and asks, “Will I remember my sisters?”

Most likely not. Though She's never made contact with any of Her sirens after they were released from service, only faint, dreamlike memories of this life should remain, and nothing at all would linger from our first lives as humans.

In my peripheral vision, I see Chloe stop her impatient pacing. I glance over at her, but her back is to me, her shoulders stiff. I wonder if she has things she can't wait to forget.

Alix is hugging Juleka and giving her parting words of advice. “Make the most of this chance, little sister. There is so much beauty in the world to make up for the ugliness you must face. Take care of Marinette for me. She can be a little empty-headed at times.”

I'm laughing through my tears as Alix goes to Chloe and touches her shoulder. Chloe doesn't turn around, but Alix says her piece anyway.

“I wish you had let me get to know you better. I sense that there's goodness in you...somewhere.” Chloe scoffs. “Well, I hope you find your happiness, Chloe. Thank you for showing me that I am strong enough to stand up for myself.”

Alix tried to live with Chloe after the blonde girl first became a siren. It had ended with Alix hitting Chloe on the head with a plate. It couldn’t hurt her, of course, but it was clear that they weren’t destined to be roommates.

Now it’s my turn to say goodbye and the amusement vanishes. “Sweet Marinette,” Alix says softly as she takes my hands. “I know this life is hard for you, but be strong. Life is going to give you double as much happiness, I just know it. I’m sorry to leave you. I’d feel better if you were by my side.”

Her last sentence has me in sobs, burying my face in her shoulder. Those are the last words my mother spoke to me, asking me to come with her to investigate the mysterious noise coming from outside our ship. Alix knows my story. This is her last gift to me.

When we’ve said all that can be said, Alix sinks under the waves and is spirited away. Juleka and I are still sniffling, causing Chloe to mutter something about “cry babies” as she leaves too.

“Well,” I say at last, “where would you like to go? We have to avoid the places where we lived in our first lives, but the rest of the world is open to us.”

Juleka asks to go somewhere full of beautiful things, so I take her to one of the prettiest places I know.


	3. Evanition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evanition - vanishing, dying away
> 
> Art is the highest form of hope. -Gerhard Richter

The streets of Italy are filled with enough warmth and beauty to satisfy any soul. Juleka and I spend the next decade or so getting to know this wonderful country, both the metropolitan areas and the gorgeous countryside. She loves Rome, loves the history and the architecture, but most of all she loves the art. I’ve accidentally brought her to a place that is perfect for nurturing her hidden talents.

It isn’t easy at first to connect with Juleka. After her first night as a siren, her words become few and far between. I worry about her and do anything I can think of to bring her out of her shell. I ask her questions about her life, her opinions, her dreams. The answers are stilted at first. She’s shy and mistrustful of my interest. I gather that her family mostly ignored her. She felt invisible, and her death only proved it. No one had noticed when she fell off the boat they were on. She watched it grow smaller on the horizon as she was drowning.

All sirens must have their own horror story, but Juleka’s breaks my heart.

Strange as it feels, I make it a point to make eye contact with her whenever I can. It makes her nervous at first, then seems to thaw her defenses as time passes. She starts making small comments on things we see or do, forms opinions on trivial matters. I try to restrain my excitement over these small victories.

When we don’t feel like wandering in public any more, we break into an apartment or a house. It’s easier than I could have ever believed, and peeking in on people’s private lives makes me feel better about our secrets. It turns out _everyone_ has a secret or two. It’s during one of these home invasions that we first encounter a blank canvas. Clearly whoever lives here is a painter, and Juleka is entranced by the art supplies. She stands in front of the canvas and touches it lightly with her fingers.

“I think...I’d like to try this.”

We can’t use this person’s supplies, of course, but the Ocean is happy to provide us with money. People lose things in Her waters all the time. Juleka and I just stand on the shoreline and She washes up what we need. The first time we go into an art supply store, Juleka is beside herself with excitement. I haven’t seen her smile like this before, and it warms my heart.

Seeing her find something that brings that light into her eyes makes me wonder if I could have a hobby as well. We’ve spent a lot of time people watching, and it’s clear now that during this time Juleka has been absorbing the shape of things, the lights and shadows, the colors, and storing them away for later use. I realize that I’ve been looking at the clothes. I think about our gowns the Ocean makes for us and wonder if I could replicate them with fabric. Juleka is happy to accompany me to use our leftover funds on instructional books, patterns, needles…

So we spend the 30s delving into our hobbies. Our first efforts are laughable, of course, but we don’t need sleep, don’t need to go to work or take bathroom breaks or cook meals, so we’re able to spend days absorbed in our work, learning all we can. Soon we’re creating beauty with our hands, a balm that eases the heartache from the devastation that we must cause with our voices. The hard part is deciding what to do with our creations. Juleka suggests that I buy suitcases, pack my clothes into them, and “forget” them at train stations and other crowded places. It’s a genius idea and I love arranging my pieces into collections, imagining that some woman will benefit from them. Juleka’s paintings are another story. She uses all different sizes of canvases, different styles of art, and a multitude of mediums. Some of the smaller pieces are easy. We leave them on tables at restaurants, propped up on benches at the park, in the backseats of taxis. She’s able to sell some of the larger pieces on the streets of Rome. Others, we get more creative with. My favorite solution is to hang them in public hallways, like in apartment or office building. It’s hard sometimes to stifle our giggles as we pick the perfect spot and perform our reverse thievery. Sometimes we stick around to watch people’s reactions. Many walk right by, not taking any notice, but occasionally a confused but appreciative stare will set me to laughing and Juleka to blushing with pride.

These are our bright and happy moments, but things are not perfect. Whenever we’re called to serve, we are reminded that the freedom to pursue our hobbies comes at a price. The weeks following a feeding are always hard. Juleka’s paints lay unused, my bolts of fabric stay neatly folded. It’s during these times that I realize there is still a distance between Juleka and I. I haven’t quite managed to truly connect with her the way I did with Alix. This makes me lonely. Participating in the deaths of so many people makes me disgusted with myself, and the Ocean’s part in it makes me resentful toward Her. I struggle with these darknesses, try to find a positive outlook to keep me going.

All I can come up with is this: if I had turned down the offer to become a siren, no lives would have been saved. Rather, some other girl would have taken my place and had to suffer as I do. By serving my sentence, I’m saving someone else.

But this logic doesn’t bring me much comfort.

By the 40s, Juleka tires of Italy and we move throughout Europe, carefully avoiding France, the country of my first life. I can’t help but wonder if I have any living relations. My memories are muddled. Did I have siblings? Or am I remembering a close cousin?

The second World War rages around us, but in a grim way we are thankful for it. We’re hardly called upon to serve at all during that time. The Ocean is well fed with the fallout of human violence. It’s during this time that something inside me starts to ask if I couldn’t be doing something to help. Here we are in our frozen bodies, unable to be hurt or killed, with no need for air or food. We’ve heard of a growing trend in the States, of popular books about men with supernatural powers. Surely any human who discovered our existence would consider us to be supernatural. But we aren’t heroes. We’re the villains.

Could I change that?

It’s true that we save the world from disaster by keeping the Ocean fed. But to save billions, we take hundreds of lives. Can those lives be counteracted if I directly save as many?

I begin looking at the world around me with fresh eyes. Suffering is the human condition. There must be ways I can help without revealing the secrets of the Ocean. I don’t tell Juleka about my thoughts at first, afraid of what her reaction might be. I can’t predict how she might feel. Will she think me foolish? But I want to discuss the idea with someone… Would the Ocean be offended?

I gather my courage and approach Her one day when Juleka is deep in a painting haze. We’re staying near the coast, so I slip out unnoticed and walk into the waves.

_Hello? Oh, nothing’s wrong. I just...wanted to talk. Is that alright?_

She’s pleased, and for the first time I think that perhaps She’s lonely. I lay out my thoughts tentatively, careful to make sure She knows that I’m not ungrateful, just looking for more ways to give back to the humans. To my delight, She gives her approval, so long as I’m careful to never arouse suspicion. I promise to take the utmost care and ask if She has any ideas. We discuss the needs that could be met without me having to make one on one contact. Donations to charities, food baskets left on doorsteps, warm clothes for the homeless… I go back to Juleka feeling a warm glow in my chest.

The next few years are my happiest yet as a siren. Once I start looking, opportunities to give back are everywhere. I tell Juleka almost immediately and she's happy to take part. We even find ways to work our hobbies in. Juleka paints beautiful murals for people to enjoy and uses the money from selling her canvas paintings to buy toys for orphanages or farm animals that conveniently get “lost” in front of peasant cottages. I turn my attention from making fashionable dresses and other ensembles to crafting gloves and socks and winter coats in all sizes. There is still a distance between Juleka and I, but I don't feel as lonely as I used to. Even the times we are called to serve don't hurt like they used to, knowing that my presence in the world is doing good along with the bad.

Then, in 1953, we get a new sister. Her name is Kagami and she has an exotic beauty with her short dark hair and dark eyes. The sun is just rising when we first meet her on a desolate stretch of beach on the coast of Japan. She sits with her face turned toward the light, eyes closed and fists clenched.

After I've made the introductions and explained her choice, she agrees to become a siren. Her words are quiet but firm. There are no tears, no theatrics. Chloe makes a dismissive hand gesture and leaves. Juleka shyly asks Kagami if she'd like to come live with us. The girl agrees without any enthusiasm.

It's awkward and stilted and doesn’t seem to get any better as the days pass. I try to make conversation with Kagami, thinking she might need encouragement like Juleka did at first, but to no avail. She stays quiet, not participating in the things we do, and always staring off into the distance. As the weeks pass and things don’t improve, I start to wonder if maybe I’m the problem. Perhaps Juleka, naturally reserved herself, could bond with Kagami in a way I can’t. I talk with her about it and she agrees to try, but I can see that she doesn’t have much faith in herself. I leave them alone for a few days. It’s hard to stay away, but I do.

It doesn’t work.

When I return, things are the same as before. Juleka gives me a helpless look, and I shrug. Maybe she just needs time. Then the day comes when we’re called to serve and Kagami must participate for the first time. We’re somewhere in the Indian Ocean, our dresses light green this time. Chloe is kneeling, her skirts spread around her and bobbing gently on the waves. I stand beside Juleka, holding her hand. Kagami is on my other side, and I think about reaching a hand out to her, but I don’t think she would like it. When the Ocean gives the command to begin singing, we open our mouths and the song flows out.

Kagami’s mouth remains firmly closed.

I look at her, horrified, and reach out to shake her, but then she’s gone, swallowed up by the Ocean. Juleka’s hand crushes mine, the shock rippling through her body. Hot tears run down my face. I can’t see how Chloe is reacting, but it’s hard to imagine her caring.

Juleka blames herself, of course. I want to console her, but I'm being eaten up by guilt myself. We sit in silence for days, lost in our own thoughts, until I can't take it anymore.

“I'm sorry, Juleka, but I need to be alone.”

She jumps up and grabs my hands. “You're not going to do that too!”

“No! No, I promise, of course not. I just need to think through some things by myself.”

It takes some doing, but when I have her convinced I'll come back, I ask the Ocean to take me far away.

The truth is, I've considered what Kagami did and I can only see her as a hero. She refused to participate in this wholesale slaughter. If she's a hero, what does that make me?

My thoughts are too twisted to make sense of. I realize the Ocean is gently cradling me somewhere deep in the heart of Her, a place no human could ever reach. It is dark, but strange glowing things move around me. Here in this alien world, I let all the things I've been holding in spill out. The grief, the bitterness, the guilt. I've been trying so hard to make everything work, to stay positive and do my best and make the most of this life.

The Ocean feels it all and in return I can feel Her comfort and understanding. It’s suddenly _infuriating_ that She should be comforting me when She was the one who killed Kagami.

 _I hate You!_ I scream at Her in my head. I feel Her hurt but I don’t care. _This is Your fault! Why can’t You catch Your own damn food?! Why do You have to torture us? What did we ever do to deserve this?_

The words flow out, decades of resentment unleashed. I pull at my own hair, but it doesn’t hurt, and none comes out. Damn this frozen body! I want to be _real_ again. I want to have choices. I want to talk to strangers on the street, to laugh out loud when I see something funny. I want to flirt with boys. I want to be kissed. I want to grow and change. I want to cut my hair into a fun new style and watch it grow out again. I want to have a career. I’m tired of this eternal waiting, these years in purgatory, watching the world go on without me.

Even when I’m human again, I’ll have lost my family. I won’t live in my own times. I won’t have any history of my own. Deep in the Ocean where no one can hear, I grieve out loud for all that I’ve lost. My mother. I remember her sweet smile, her hands on my forehead when I was ill. And my father. His booming laughter. I remember his love for me. I remember being secure in the knowledge that I would always be his little girl. And now they’re long dead, sacrificed to _Her_ appetite while I’m forced to live on.

I don’t know how long I spend in my rage. When I’m as exhausted as I’ve ever been as a siren, the Ocean’s comforting presence is still there. I can sense Her hesitance and...shame? Slowly, She admits that She wishes things were different, too. She doesn’t like hurting the very people She serves. She doesn’t like seeing Her sirens miserable. But She’s had centuries upon centuries to adjust and accept that what will be, will be. She’s almost crooning as She says that I’m one of her favorites, that She has loved seeing my bravery and compassion in action.

I listen in awe, so in tune with Her feelings that I can’t doubt Her. And I feel...okay. The release of so many feelings has a therapeutic effect. Kagami made her decision and it was the right decision for her. But I’m here, and Juleka is here, and we have to keep going. Without me consciously asking it, the Ocean is already pulling me back to where Juleka is. I open my palms out and try to stroke the waters rushing by me, almost as if I’m embracing the Ocean Herself.

 _I don’t hate You,_ I say. _I don’t hate You at all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise from chapter 5 onward, we won't be skipping through decades at a time anymore. And all the angst has a purpose.


	4. Nyctanthous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyctanthous - flowering at night
> 
> We need, in love, to practice only this: letting each other go. For holding on comes easily; we do not need to learn it. -Rilke

Kagami’s brief time as a siren makes us extremely wary the next time the Ocean chooses a new sister for us. It is 1966, and for over four decades Juleka and I have been travelling the world together. After Kagami left us, we made our way across India and China, taking in the art and fashion of these exotic locations and performing anonymous acts of charity wherever we could. When I needed time alone, I would escape into the Ocean and let Her take me to the most uninhabited places on earth, where I could scream without fear of hurting anyone.

We were in Egypt when we heard Her calling for us, saying that it was time for a new siren to join us once again. Juleka and I shared a look before we left, hoping this time would be different.

Now we are on a tiny island, comforting a girl with short blonde hair who is crying hysterically and, of all things, _apologizing_ . To _us._ For _crying_. I'm already worried that she won't be able to handle a siren's duties.

But she surprises us all. Her name is Rose and her sweet spirit is not an indicator of weakness. Rather, it's her source of strength. When I explain to her what we are and what we do, she says, “So you’re like angels of mercy?”

Chloe, keeping her distance as usual, laughs derisively. “I think this one is a few instruments short of an orchestra.”

For once, I almost agree. “Rose...I don’t think you understand. We lure people to their deaths.”

Sitting up a little straighter, she replies, “But the Ocean has to eat people either way, right? And when you sing, they don’t know that they’re drowning? They’re not afraid? Don’t you think that’s an act of mercy?”

We stare at her in silence for a long minute. Then a huge grin breaks out on Juleka’s face - something I’ve never seen before - and she says, “Does that mean you’ll stay?”

A look passes between them and Rose nods.

So we finally have a fourth siren after decades of being a threesome. Rose is a fresh spring breeze in our lives. Her _joie de vivre_ is infectious, and there are a few close calls when she almost makes us laugh out loud in public. She _adores_ my idea of giving back and frequently comes up with new ways to do so. She gladly poses for Juleka's paintings when needed and looks darling in the clothes I make her.

And Juleka, well, it's as if that part of her she's always kept in reserve is finally thawing. It becomes my goal to keep my sisters smiling, to make this life as fulfilling and painless as possible for them. To that end, I begin organizing adventures for us. Why not experience all the dangerous thrills the world has to offer while our bodies are unbreakable?

So we run with the bulls - twice. We go cliff diving, off of cliffs normal humans jump from, and when possible, from much higher heights. I love that feeling of flying. We drive fast cars and climb ancient trails through mountains. We sneak to the top of Everest, able to admire the view for as long as we want. It's an exhilarating privilege. Enjoying the benefits of being a siren almost takes away the longing for the benefits of being a human.

Almost.

The rest of the 60s go by in a flash, and the 70s are full of adventures. It isn't until the early 80s that I start to notice a difference. Juleka and Rose are spending more time alone together. More and more, I am feeling like a third wheel, intruding on their friendship with each other. I’m hurt, but then feel guilty for being hurt. If Juleka has found someone she can totally open up to, how can I begrudge her that?

I throw myself into other activities, trying to ignore my growing feelings of rejection and loneliness. Fashion has, in my opinion, been going downhill since the 50s, and I spend days bent over my sewing machine, trying to bring some elegance back into the world. But all the sewing needles in the world can’t stitch me back together with my sisters.

I sense the truth long before I consciously acknowledge it. In the end, it takes being confronted with it head-on to make me admit that, yes, this is happening.

Juleka and Rose are in a _relationship._

We’re in the rainforests of Africa, living in the trees with the wild animals, observing them as they observe us. It’s nighttime, and the jungle is alive with noise. I’ve been on the forest floor, testing my own patience by trying to gain the trust of a mother okapi and her baby. They’re some of the strangest animals I’ve ever seen, like giraffes but shorter and without spots. Instead, they have chocolate brown fur and zebra stripes on their legs. Tonight, the mother came close enough to eat some leaves from my hand before leaving with her child. I’m excited to tell my sisters of this small victory.

They’re in the trees, admiring the stars. I climb up to join them, and I’m not exactly the most quiet climber, but apparently they don’t hear my approach. They are kissing, Juleka’s hand resting gently on Rose’s face. It feels like a kick to the chest. I gasp. _Now_ they hear me, and they break apart.

No words are spoken. I turn away and climb back down. What now? So many thoughts are rushing through my head. I wander the forest floor until I come to a small stream. I want to lie on my back in it and commune with the Ocean about this discovery. She can speak to us from any natural source of water. But something tells me that She shouldn’t know about this.

Has it happened before? Were there consequences?

We’re forbidden to have close relationships with humans. It’s too dangerous, for us as well as for them. Between sirens, though? I don’t know. I just don’t know.

I sit against a tree and consider it. The world I grew up in would utterly cast out anyone found in such a relationship. Society is changing, but even now, it’s not something to be taken lightly. Who cares about the world, though? We’re not part of the world, not really, and we won’t be part of it again for a long time. The moral issue doesn’t concern me. Not really. They’re not hurting anyone. We kill hundreds of people every year; it’s not like any of us have any kind of moral high ground.

It’s the abandonment I feel that’s bothering me. And the _jealousy_. Not that I have feelings for either of them, but that they get to enjoy something I can’t. Something I’ve been waiting so long for. I can’t help the tears that fall.

Juleka finds me a while later, and sits down next to me. I wipe the tears from my face, embarrassed to be caught crying.

“I’m happy for you two,” I say, and it’s true. Just not the whole truth.

“You shouldn’t be,” she says. I look at her, confused. “Marinette, I became a siren almost forty years before Rose.”

And then I understand, and I’m ashamed of myself. When Juleka is released, she won’t remember Rose. She’ll live a human life without her. And Rose will spend the rest of her time as a siren knowing that her lover is forever out of her reach.

Tragedy, it seems, is inescapable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously in the show, most of the characters are French, but that doesn't work for this story. So I tried to make some reasonable assumptions. Marinette is still from France, Rose is from Australia, Juleka is from Russia, and Alix was from Egypt. I haven't decided on Chloe yet...


	5. Obacerate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obacerate - to stop one’s mouth
> 
> without your past,  
> you could never have arrived-  
> so wondrously and brutally,  
> by design or some violent, exquisite happenstance  
> ...here.
> 
> -T.S.

Copyright Ray Collins

I feel tremendous guilt for my selfish reaction to Juleka and Rose's relationship. How hard it must have been for them to be worried about it and trying to keep it a secret. It goes unspoken that we won't let the Ocean know. I'm closer to Her than any of the others and even I can't predict what Her reaction might be.

We spend a little more time in the rainforest. It’s such a beautiful place, so full of life. I’m finally able to get the mother okapi to trust me enough to let me pet her calf. I get lost in my thoughts as I’m stroking the creature’s soft ears. Later, I can’t remember what brought me to this conclusion, but I’m suddenly certain that I want to try to work with deaf children. There’s the obvious benefit that they’re not in any danger from my voice. There are more subtle benefits as well, such as having an outlet for my maternal instinct. Such as having some space between myself and my sisters.

I’ll have to learn sign language, but it’s not like I’m lacking in time or resources. The idea is growing on me. I wonder if the Ocean will approve? It would require a lot more contact with humans than we normally have, but I can move from school to school every few years and no one will be at risk. I’m smiling broadly as I leave the okapi behind and go in search of Juleka and Rose. They’re together, of course, taking turns jumping into a river and floating over a waterfall. Honestly, the things we can get away with in these bodies. I wonder if we’ll miss this freedom when we’re human again.

I jump in after them and have to restrain myself from whooping in delight as the water throws me off the edge of the cliff. There’s always the possibility that there might be people nearby, and it would certainly put a damper on our fun to cause a drowning. We swim around in the pools below the waterfall for a little while. The Ocean can communicate with us even in fresh water, of course, and I sense how She enjoys the fact that we’re having fun. I’m communicating with Her even as I’m splashing Rose, telling Her about my new idea. I’m careful to avoid thoughts of why I wouldn’t mind being apart from my sisters. She thinks the plan could work with some careful consideration.

So we head off to London, a place Rose has been wanting to see, and a place where I can learn sign language. Or so I think. After doing some research, I discover that deaf populations use different “dialects” or entirely different languages from place to place. The only significantly-sized area with _mutual intelligibility_ (it’s always fun to learn new vocabulary words) between dialects is North America - also known as the continent I’ve been avoiding all my years as a siren.

Also known as the place my family was headed when our ship sank.

That mutual intelligibility is important, though, if I want to be able to move every few years and not have to learn an entirely new language every time. And school-hopping will be crucial if I’m to keep my secret. Maybe it’s time to overcome my silly superstitions about America. It’s just a place like anywhere else.

I explore London with Juleka and Rose and let these thoughts percolate for awhile. Rose is excited to be back in an English speaking country. We can understand any spoken language, of course, but reading is another matter. We spend days in bookstores and libraries, Juleka and I watching with amused expressions as Rose does a great impression of a bee with too many flowers to pollinate.

It only takes walking in on Juleka and Rose in an intimate position once more to remind me why a teaching position would be blissful. I’ll just have to face my fears and overcome them.

I bring it up slowly, not wanting the most important people in my life to feel guilty or abandoned. Instead, they’re excited for me and willing to do anything to help the cause. I just laugh and tell them all they have to do is keeping being happy together.

The first time I walk into a school for the deaf and a little girl with blonde pigtails runs up and hugs my leg, I know I've made the right decision. All the trouble was worth it. It wasn't easy to create a fake identity, and learning sign language took longer than I thought. Finally coming to America filled me with more sadness than I care to admit. It's as beautiful as I always imagined. My parents will never be here with me. That thought has me curled in a ball crying for several days. But all the obstacles only make the reward more sweet, and after several years of rigorous preparation, I start teaching.

Children are such a treasure. Nothing compares to seeing their eyes light up when they grasp a new concept. They are silly and sweet and crazy smart. On top of that, they're determined to help me learn patience.

Every time I have to move on to a new school, it's harder than the last time. They always throw me a goodbye party and I always end up crying. But there is always laughter as well, old jokes being thrown around one last time and friendly teasing about past mistakes.

I take time off to visit Juleka and Rose whenever I can, and they choose to spend a few years exploring the States, dropping in on whatever school I'm at, pretending to be old college buddies. For the first time since becoming a siren, I even make friends my own age just by working alongside the other teachers. It's as close to normal as I can get.

Then we're called to serve again and I remember that I'm not normal.

Years pass. I work with kids of all ages and discover that the older ones are my favorites. They're just starting to develop their adult personalities and their problems are so much like my own in some ways. They wonder what they'll do with their lives, if they'll be loved, if they'll be good people.

There's one girl, Bridgette, who reminds me so much of myself. She even looks a little bit like me with her dark hair and blue eyes. We have an instant bond. The school I’m at now is a boarding school and I am living in one of the dorms as a dorm mother. I’m spending nearly every hour of the day around humans, but the person in the most danger is myself. The students have become like family to me, Bridgette especially. I try not to think about having to leave eventually.

It’s 2001 now, a year that would have been unimaginable to me in my former life. A new millenium, and my eightieth year as a siren. Only two decades left. Oddly, I feel a small bit of panic. Have I used my time wisely? Am I a better person, the kind of person Alix thought I could be?

My thoughts are far away as I am bent over my sewing machine. I can’t bring myself to buy clothes when I so enjoy making my own. My coworkers always wonder how I do it and still manage to get enough sleep at night, and I smile and shrug.

There’s a knock at the door, not an unusual occurrence but it still startles me. I break away from the thought that I was born nearly a century ago and return to the present. When I answer the door, I find Bridgette looking shy but pleased. She holds out a little sewing kit proudly, asking with her other hand if she can come in.

It’s not the first night she’s spent hanging out in my room, but tonight she has come to ask me if I’ll teach her how to make clothes. She even asked her parents to send her some sewing supplies. My chest goes all warm and fuzzy. I’m so _honored_ . And _delighted_. My sisters have always been supportive of my hobby, but no one has ever wanted to join me in it before.

So I teach her, and she takes to it immediately, her confidence growing as she walks around campus in her own designs. As we work in the evenings, she stops every few minutes to sign enthusiastically about how her crush complimented her new skirt or how her mother was thrilled with the apron Bridgette made her for her birthday. When her childhood dog Lotus has to be put down and she isn’t able to go home to say goodbye, she cries in my arms.

On her birthday she teaches me how to make cupcakes. I get flour on my face and when I scratch the spot where it itches, more flour transfers. It keeps happening until I am shocked by the sound of Bridgette’s laughter. She is bent over, clutching her stomach, and laughing so _loudly_ because she has no way of monitoring the volume. I take a mental video of the moment, committing every detail to memory. I want to share it with the Ocean when I thank Her for making this possible.

On the last day of school, Bridgette’s face is red as she presents me with a purse that has the words “World’s Best Teacher” embroidered on one side.

I do what I always do: I cry.

It’s hard to watch the kids leave for the summer, but they’ll be back and I will too. This is just a temporary goodbye. Bridgette only has two years left of high school, and I’ve already decided to be there for both of them. I can’t stay with her after that, but I’ve got a plan in the works to pay for her college tuition.

Life is _good_.

Right up until it isn’t.

It’s time for us to serve again, and I pull that responsibility back over my shoulders like a cloak. _It will be nice to see Juleka and Rose,_ I tell myself as I get ready to leave. _You’ll have all summer to recover from this. The timing couldn’t be better._

My internal dialogue continues as I make my way to the Ocean, dressed in the one store-bought outfit I always keep on hand. Moving through the Ocean at high speeds tears the clothes apart, and there’s no sense in letting my own work go to waste like that. I look down as Her waters rush over me and take in the color of today’s seafoam gown. It’s an Ocean sunset: muted dark blues shot through with warm orange tones. I distract myself by wondering how it could be recreated with fabric.

 _The dresses are especially pretty this time,_ I tell Her. She hums in my mind with contentment. I can feel Her hunger aching in my own belly. Not too much longer.

I surface somewhere in the Caribbean, my sisters all gathered around already. It’s strange to see Juleka and Rose not holding hands or touching each other in some other way, a careful distance between them, but I shut that thought down before She can pick up on it. Chloe is pacing, fists clenched tight, a sour look on her face. The passing years have seen her growing more and more irritable and impatient instead of less.

They all look lovely in their sunset-colored gowns. We make an impressive sight. The last sight some people will see tonight. I stand between Juleka and Rose and Chloe lays down at our feet. The sun is setting. When the seascape around us matches our dresses, a ship becomes visible. A cruise ship, full of people happy to be on vacation. My heart aches. Our song begins.

It’s breathtaking, as always.

The ship turns to us, as always.

I carefully keep my eyes away from the faces. As always.

Then my ears catch a sound, just audible under the strength of our song. It’s a sound most people probably wouldn’t recognize, one with garbled edges and indistinct syllables. It’s the sound a person makes when they don’t know what their own voice sounds like.

 _No,_ I think, and then I _see_ her, her dark hair plastered to her face, her blue eyes full of fear and confusion, paddling to stay afloat. The quartet of singing voices becomes a trio.

“No!” I scream. Try to go to her. Chloe’s hand snatches out and grabs a handful of my dress. I kick her as hard as I can. Juleka and Rose, still singing, grab my arms. I drop, let my dead weight pull me from their grip. My hands and legs are touching the water and I scream again, in my head this time, _No! Not her!_

People survive these things. Sometimes. If they haven’t seen us, and if they are very, very lucky. I’m frantic, pleading. _Let her go! Let her go!_ The Ocean is hesitating and I have just a moment to hope, then Bridgette’s eyes find mine and it’s over.

Our song can’t bring a merciful death to someone who can’t hear it.

As soon as I think it, Bridgette is sucked under the water. Just like Kagami was. The Ocean is whispering in my mind that She’s sorry, She didn’t know, She did what She could to keep her from suffering. I am numb. My sisters have stopped singing. Rose is crying and Juleka touches my shoulder.

Chloe is silent.

The sun has set and the whole world is blue.

 _Take me away,_ I tell the Ocean. She cradles me gently in Her waves and says that maybe I should stay with my sisters. My eyes drift shut. I don’t have the energy to argue, to put any force into the words, so I simply repeat them. _Take me away._

She carries me north, up the coast of the United States. It is dark when I can’t stand to feel Her apologies anymore. _Stop. Stop. Let me go_.

She is worried about what I’ll do. _I’ll keep your stupid secret. Let me go_. I walk out of Her waters onto an empty beach. I wish I could tear this gown off but I don’t have anything else to wear. It’s all I can do to get up past the sand, up into the forest, until I can’t hear Her waves. I collapse in the embrace of some tree roots.

I don’t cry.

I can feel memories and emotions and regrets batting butterfly wings on the edges of my awareness, but I cannot let them in. I have to maintain absolute emptiness. I have to protect myself.

I’m not even startled when a pair of boots appears in my line of vision. They are walking by, then stuttering to a halt, then rushing over to where I am laying on the ground. A hand is on my forehead, a voice is asking if I’m injured. I look up into the face. There is a light attached to the forehead of the stranger. Probably it would hurt my eyes, if I were human. Probably I should pretend it does.

I don’t.

I just look away, wishing this person would leave me alone. The voice is talking again, asking questions. The stranger sounds upset. Then his hands are on me, trying to lift me up. My own hands come up and tell him in the most profane language they’ve picked up over the years to _leave me alone_. He backs off, takes the light off his head. Looks deep into my eyes. I can see now that his are green.

“Are you deaf?” he asks very slowly, exaggerating the movements of his mouth. I narrow my eyes but shake my head and point to my mouth. “You can’t speak?” he confirms. I nod. “Are you injured?” I shake my head. “Are you lost?” I shake my head. He looks bewildered. “I guess you can’t tell me why you’re out here… Do you need help?” I shake my head firmly and make a shooing motion. He snorts. “My home is just a short walk. Would you come inside and have something to drink? It would make me feel better. I can’t just leave you here.”

I’m about to say no, to get up and run away, knowing he could never keep up. But the thoughts that were just butterfly-tapping before are now laying siege with a battering ram, and I don’t want to be alone.

So I nod, and he takes my hand, and we begin.


	6. Tropaean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tropaean - blowing from sea to land
> 
> "Her absence extended in lines of numbers made of smoke, backward in memory and forward in futures never to occur."  
> -Gordon Dahlquist

Copyright Nishe on Flickr

 

The stranger gives me his hand to help me get up. His is warm and rough; I’ve never held a man’s hand before. I release it as soon as I’m standing and make a half-hearted effort to brush the leaves from my dress. He points the light, now held in his hand, at my dress so I can see what I’m doing.

I see him open his mouth to say something, but he shuts it again and stays quiet. Probably he had a comment about my appearance. I imagine it’s not very common to stumble upon young ladies in the forest dressed in formal gowns. Should I have an explanation for that? I can’t think of one, but it doesn’t matter. If the questions get to be too much, I’ll just leave.

We begin walking in silence and he politely holds tree branches out of my way. The path is visible but not completely cleared.

“Was it a guy?” he suddenly asks, turning to face me. I look back at him, confused. He lifts his arms in a self-conscious shrug, the beam of light in his hand making a swooping motion through the trees. “You seem upset. I thought maybe it had to do with a guy. If you’re in danger-”

I interrupt him by putting a hand up, then falter because I don’t know what else to do. I shake my head and he seems to understand. We continue walking for a bit, the silence somehow more awkward than before. He comes to a sudden halt again and I almost run into him.

“My name is Adrien! I didn’t say. I-I forgot.” He’s got a hand in his hair now, a nervous gesture. At this rate we’ll never get out of the forest. I try to make my lips form a polite smile and nod. He looks even more flustered but turns around and continues walking. Not ten steps later, he stops again.

I sigh.

“I just thought you should know! My friends live with me. They’re nice people!” I’m not sure how to respond so I go with the same tight smile and nod. “Right! Okay!” He whirls around and almost runs into a tree branch, ducking at the last second and pinwheeling his arms to keep from falling down. “I’m fine!”

On a normal day, it would have been funny, but right now I feel like I’m watching the scene from a distance. Nothing feels quite real.

Finally the trees start to thin and we come out of the forest. There is a house before us, two stories high and with warm light shining through the windows. It looks like a home.

Adrien smiles at me and gestures at the house. “This is mine,” he says with obvious pride and affection. “Are you hungry? Or thirsty? Are you cold?” He doesn’t wait for answers as he leads me to the door and and opens it. Instead of an entryway or a living room, the house opens into a kitchen. There’s a couple sitting at the round dining table, talking and eating. They look up, then freeze.

“What the f-”

The guy stuffs a bread roll in the girl’s mouth before she can finish the sentence. “Adrien, dude, what’s up?”

Adrien laughs nervously. “Well, I...made a friend!”

My eyebrows raise in sync with his roommates. Adrien gestures to them. “This is my best friend Nino and his fiancee Alya.” They seem to be waiting for him to introduce me, but he can’t. I sign a greeting, since it seems rude not to. “I went on a walk in the woods and..we bumped into each other.”

There’s a tense moment as we all look at each other, unsure of what to do next. Alya finishes chewing the bite of bread in her mouth and slowly says, “We were just finishing dinner, if you’d like to join us.” I give her a little nod and take a seat.

Adrien seems to remember something and darts over to a drawer, opening it and pawing around inside for a moment before triumphantly pulling out a permanent marker. Then he grabs a few paper towels off a roll and lays the objects in front of me.

Alya coughs into her hand then says, “Adrien, what are those for?”

“She- I’m sorry, I don’t know your name yet- she indicated she can’t speak and we don’t understand sign language so I thought she could write instead!” He looks at me hopefully. “But you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to!”

“Adrien.” Alya brings his attention back to her. “We have pens. And paper.”

There’s a pause, then, “Right! Of course. I’ll go get those!” He’s gone in an instant, leaving me with these two strangers. For lack of anything better to do, I write my name with the second-rate supplies Adrien provided. I’m considering the problem here - that I can’t write in English - when something brushes against my leg. I jerk so hard my knee hits the underside of the table and makes the dishes clatter. It’s a humiliating reaction when I realize it was just a cat rubbing affectionately on me.

A glance at the couple across from me reveals mild amusement on their faces and perhaps a little bit of concern, but no annoyance. I reach down to give the cat a scratch behind the ears. It purrs and leans into me. Nino reaches across the table and turns the paper towel to face him.

“Marinette, huh? Are you French, too?”

Too? I look up, intrigued, and nod, then tilt my head questioningly. Alya claps her hands and says, “We all moved here from Paris a few years ago! Do you speak French?”

I nod again, hoping I don’t get myself into a situation where they can tell I don’t know what language they’re speaking.

Adrien returns then, clutching better supplies this time, and saying, “Hey guys, I didn’t see Funky Winterbean while I was in the office. Do you…” Then he stops, spotting the cat that is now perched on my lap. He smiles widely. “Now, Bean, you know you’re not allowed in the kitchen, but I don’t blame you for being unable to resist such a pretty lady.” Then he _winks_ at me.

Alya face palms with an audible slap. “ _Adrien_.”

Bright splotches of red suddenly bloom on his neck. “Right. Sorry. I, uh, found…” Instead of finishing, he gently places the items in front of me. He catches sight of the paper towel with my name on it. “Marinette? That’s a pretty name!”

Nino pipes in, “We were just discussing how we’re all French. It’s quite the coincidence.”

_Indeed_ , I think.

“So what brings you to Port Clyde, Marinette?” Alya asks a few minutes later, after I’ve been served a dish of spaghetti, the cat has been evicted, and the fuss over our shared heritage has died down.

The real question I’m being asked here is why I’m a bedraggled mess in a gown in a forest in the middle of the night with eyes red from crying. Really, they’re far too kind to have waited so long for answers to such an obvious conundrum. Especially from someone eating their delicious food.

I put the fork down and consider for a moment before writing on the sheets of paper provided.

_I was at an event when I received news of a dear friend’s passing. I...didn’t take it well. Thank you for your kindness to me. I didn’t want to be around -_ here I pause, and go with the easiest term - _my family, but being alone wasn’t all that great either._

It’s still an odd scenario, to be sure. My hair is loose and has dried in funny waves from the salt water. Not exactly an updo one would wear to a formal event. But when I assess the reactions of the strangers at the table with me, they all look concerned and sympathetic. Adrien especially looks as if he might cry himself.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Marinette. If you want to stay here for the night, we have a guest room.”

Alya gives him a look, but he ignores her. The offer is so unexpected and sweet, I nod before I really think it through. It’s not like they pose any risk to me like they would to a normal girl. The more pressing issue is making sure _I_ don’t become a danger to _them._

“Will your family be worried about you? We can call them if you’d like, let them know where you are.” This comes from Nino, who seems to be the most level-headed one in the group.

I write, _It’s okay. We’re not that close. They won’t be worried._

The following silence is awkward again, and I realize how pathetic I must seem to them. On a whim I write, _What brought you all to Maine?_ During our earlier discussion about our home country, they never explained that part. Really, it’s such a coincidence, I should be more interested, but I’m not. I just want to keep my mind from straying to darker thoughts. Carefully I avoid thinking her name, avoid opening that door and letting the breakdown I know is coming begin. Knowing it's only a matter of time, I nonetheless pay close attention to the current conversation to keep myself distracted.

As if by some silent cue that I’ve missed, Alya and Nino stack the dinner plates and take them to the sink. Adrien is smiling sadly and playing with the salt shaker.

“My parents came here on their honeymoon. My mother...she read a book when she was young about New England, about the lobster boats. It struck her as romantic, so after they got married my father surprised her with a trip down the coast of Maine.” He laughs a little. “They got so caught up in the sights and in each other, they ran out of gas. Ended up staying the night in Rockland. A local offered them a free tour of the Marshall Point Lighthouse.” He’s been staring at the salt shaker while talking, but now he looks up at me. “I have a picture of them there. They seem so happy in that picture. Mom always talked about this place as if it were a fairytale. So I came here to see if it was really everything Mom made it out to be, and I fell in love. Bought the house and convinced Alya and Nino to join me and the rest, as they say, is history.”

There seems to be some information missing there, but I can hardly press for it when these people don’t even know me. So I smile and nod a little to show I was listening. Nino is finishing up the dishes as Alya turns back to me. “I guess you’ll need something to sleep in, huh? Let me see what I can dig up.”

Adrien offers to give me a little tour while Alya finds me some clothes. The whole situation still feels pretty surreal to me. It gets more surreal when I walk into the living room and see cats _everywhere_. They’re curled up sleeping on every surface, at least eight of them just in this room. Goodness, are they running some kind of shelter out of this house? Adrien makes a little noise with his tongue and half the cats get up and begin to wind around his legs. He laughs delightedly.

“I couldn’t have pets growing up because Father was allergic. Once I was on my own, well, you can see what happened. I hope you’re not allergic! I should have asked.” He looks worried until I shake my head. It makes me wonder. I don’t remember if I had allergies as a human. If I did, will they return?

Adrien walks over to a tall bookcase and takes down a picture frame. He says, “See?” and turns it toward me. A lovely woman with honey blonde hair has her arms around an ashen-haired man. They’re wearing big cheesy grins and the wind is blowing their clothes and hair into a mess. I smile at Adrien and sign, _They look like nice people_. He says, “I don’t know what you said but I’m going to guess it was complimentary.” I nod.

Alya comes down the stairs with a small pile of clothing and a toothbrush still in the package. It’s awfully sweet of her and I have to go back to the kitchen and grab my pen and paper so I can properly thank her.

She seems pleased with my gratitude. Adrien asks if her and Nino want to watch some TV together before bed, but she turns him down and the couple heads upstairs to sleep, leaving me alone with this man and his many cats.

“Would you like to know their names?” he asks me excitedly. I'm confused at first because I already know his friends’ names. Then I realize he means the cats. Oh dear.

I try to look enthusiastic. At least it's a good distraction.

He picks up the fluffy gray cat from earlier. “Well, you met Funky Winterbean already. He's our troublemaker. That over there is his sister, BB.” He points at a lovely dark gray cat with white markings. “Don't ask what BB stands for. That's all Alya's fault.”

I can't help but let out a breathy laugh. He smiles delightedly at me and continues, gesturing toward a tortoiseshell cat who is sleeping soundly in a cat tree. “Zoey over there is our grand duchess. She's twelve years old! Her owner passed away so I took her in. Basically, she just sleeps.”

A black and white kitten is trying to climb Adrien’s leg as he speaks. He sets Funky Winterbean down and picks up the kitten. “This little one is Kitty Kitty Bang Bang. The shelter has me on speed dial when they have a cat that's in danger of being euthanized. I’m just fostering KB here for awhile until she finds her forever home. Can you _believe_ people still discriminate against black cats?”

I shake my head to show my disapproval. It does seem silly, but then again, I know of at least one myth that is true. I decide to take the initiative and point questioningly at a gorgeous cat with long reddish hair who is sitting proudly on a shelf, as if she is part of the decor.

Adrien rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Yes, yes, Queen Athena. He is very regal, I know.” My eyebrows shoot upward. Adrien shrugs. “Nino has a regular gig at a drag show. If you met the real Queen Athena, you’d know the name fits perfectly.”

Goodness. I knew times had changed, but even working with teenagers, I hadn’t realized how much. The thought brings back my grief in a rushing wave and tears prick my eyes. Adrien watches my expression change and immediately sets down the kitten.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I know you’ve had an awful night, and here I am blabbering about cats and drag queens. Here, sit down. Can I get you anything?” He’s guiding me to the couch and I sit, covering my face with my hands. If I start to cry, I might make a sound and put this kind stranger in harm’s way. He sits silently as I take deep shuddering breaths to calm myself down. When I feel able to hold myself together again, I point to the pile of clothes Alya brought me.

“You’d like to go to sleep now?” he asks, and I nod. “Okay, of course, come on, I’ll show you the guest room.”

It’s a very nice room, downstairs and right next to the living room, but I can’t focus on it at all. Adrien looks worried about leaving me alone, but I manage to reassure him with nothing but pantomime. Once he’s gone, I change quickly then fall face-first into the bed, holding a pillow to my face in case any sound escapes when the tears finally come.

_Bridgette_. She looked right into my eyes before the Ocean swallowed her whole. I wonder what she thought, if my presence felt like a comfort or a betrayal? Then I realize her parents must have been on the cruise ship as well. I think of the apron we made for her mother, and something like nausea rolls through me.

I am sick of death.

The taunting inner voice in my head says that I’m being a baby, that death is a natural part of life, that my sisters don’t struggle the way I do. The voice says that I’m weak, that anyone I come in contact with is doomed to suffer, that I’ve probably doomed the people in this household too.

But I haven’t lived a hundred years for nothing. I may be trapped in a 19-year-old’s body but that doesn’t mean I have to think like one. That inner voice sometimes has valid points, but they have to be taken with a grain of salt. Death is a natural part of life, yes, but losing Bridgette and her parents so suddenly _is_ tragic. I have a right to grieve. I need to work through this guilt instead of trying to shame myself out of it. I played a part in their deaths; I can’t deny that.

But when I look at the decisions that brought me here, what could I change? Somehow kept Bridgette from ever setting foot near the Ocean? I suppose I could have avoided forming bonds with humans, but would I trade my memories with Bridgette to not feel this grief now?

No, I wouldn’t.

As for the people I love being doomed, it’s an awfully narcissistic thought. Of all the people I’ve known, and all the people I’ve sung to their deaths, only once have those two worlds collided. My parents died because I insisted on a trip to America, and I was unable to convince Kagami to stay with us. Every person encounters loss.

I’m not cursed. I have to believe that. And I won’t hurt my strange hosts. I’ll leave in the morning and never see them again.

Even though these rational thoughts comfort me a little, grief is still a boulder on my chest. There is nothing to do but embrace the weight of it. Otherwise, it will crush me. I could swear there is a physical pressure on my body, as if gravity has doubled. Laying in a stranger’s guest bed, I wonder at the path my life has taken, and where I will go from here. Explaining why I won’t be coming back to teach at the boarding school won’t be a problem. Summoning the courage to go back there is the real problem.

To my surprise, sleep comes quickly. I have nightmares within nightmares, dreaming that I am calling out to Bridgette, then realizing I’m yelling aloud in a house full of vulnerable humans. Terror washes over me, then I wake up for real and lay frozen, heart beating violently, waiting to hear footsteps on the stairs. Nothing. Just a dream. But I realize sleep isn’t wise.

I tiptoe out into the living room, surprised to see that most of the cats have gone. They must sleep with Adrien. But the elderly cat, Zoey, has moved to the couch. I curl up next to her and she regards me with an unreadable expression. I’ve never been a cat person.

After a few minutes, Zoey gets up, stretches, and moves onto my lap. It feels like an honor, so I keep still. She settles in, and start to purr, and I finally understand a cat's appeal.

We sit together until the sun begins to rise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse the extra long notes!
> 
> First of all, there are two paragraphs in this chapter in which the first letter of each sentence spells out a name. When I got writer's block I used this method to force myself to write! The names are Todrick (a nickname for [TOG84](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TOG84)) and Etoiles ([EtoilesJaunes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtoilesJaunes)), two of my friends in the ML fandom who listen to me go on and on and on about this story, and who also write great stories of their own that you should definitely check out! Thanks for all the input, guys!
> 
> I have some notes about the cat's names! First of all, the grand duchess Zoey is named after [LdyFcknNoir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LdyFcknNoir/pseuds/LdyFcknNoir)'s beloved kitten who passed away. I wanted to write a little tribute to her and make a world where she got to grow old like she deserved.
> 
> Funky Winterbean was the name of a dear friend's cat. He has passed on but lived a long and healthy life.
> 
> BB stands for Basic Bitch hahaha.


	7. Tacenda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tacenda: things not to be mentioned
> 
> I know you're bleeding, but you'll be okay  
> Hold on to your heart, you keep it safe  
> Hold on to your heart, don't give it away  
> -Florence + The Machine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if I stated this in previous chapters, but it's 2001 in the story. Castaway came out in theaters in December 2000.

_Copyright Mickey Lynn_

 

Adrien is the first one to wake up, coming softly down the stairs just as the sun is turning the living room a lovely shade of gold. He's moving with exaggerated care, to avoid waking me I suppose, and stops in surprise when he sees me on the couch with Zoey.

“Oh! Good morning! Were you able to get some sleep?”

I make a so-so gesture.

“Ah. Are you hungry? We have cereal, or I could make pancakes, or eggs. There's also oatmeal, or frozen waffles...” He looks at me hopefully as he lists the items, as if providing me with food will make his day. I think about the hunger pains I felt yesterday, and the fact that they're gone now because Bridgette is dead.

My face crumples and Adrien backtracks.

“It's okay if you're not hungry! I know I didn't have an appetite for weeks after- after my parents died.”

This information cuts through the fog of grief that has started to overwhelm me. This is the missing piece from last night. Looking back, it should have been obvious, but I was understandably distracted.

Adrien is standing there, awkward now. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up, I wasn't trying to make this about me.”

I can't help it, my heart goes out to him. Zoey makes a noise of discontent as I move her off my lap and make room on the couch. I grab the pen and paper and point to the spot beside me.

_Would you tell me what happened to them?_ I write as he takes a seat. He's still looking embarrassed so I add, _I would like to listen._

In the short time since he came downstairs, the cat invasion has begun. Zoey has gone back to her cat tree, but three others have taken her place on the couch. The kitten is playing with my hair and the gray siblings are choosing their spots on Adrien's body. He looks bemused by them, and I can see how their presence eases his grief.

“My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was in middle school. There were surgeries and treatments. So many hours spent in the hospital, so much pain and struggle. She went into remission several times, but the cancer always came back. My father and I...we spent years swinging between hope and despair, trying to get to a place where we could find a way to go on if she didn't make it. I spent so much time trying to brace myself for life without her…”

He takes a deep breath. “Then their car malfunctioned while they were driving to an appointment. The brakes failed… and suddenly I had lost both of my parents.” He shakes his head, dispelling bad thoughts. “That was a few years ago. I'm not...over it. I don't think I'll ever be. But moving here and having Alya and Nino by my side has helped a lot.” He raises his eyes to meet mine. “Marinette, I know I'm basically a stranger to you, but if there's anything I can do to help you, let me know.”

The sudden switch from his own pain to mine surprises me. I can hear the Ocean calling for me, asking if I’m alright, apologizing again. I should make my excuses and leave this place, slip back into my murder dress and slide right back into Her waters. I shift in my seat, undecided, and I must have been blocking the sun because, as I move, a beam of light falls onto his face and makes his green eyes glow.

I write, _Actually, breakfast sounds lovely._

\---

Adrien is more excited about providing me with food than is strictly necessary. It’s tempting to be flattered, but the reality is that I am walking bait for humans. It would be more unusual if he _wasn’t_ attracted to me. Still, I enjoy his chattering as he cooks, and I tell myself it’s because his silly stories drown out the soft sound of the Ocean’s calls.

He makes pancakes _and_ eggs and the enticing smells bring his friends downstairs. Alya looks like she might still be asleep and Nino is following behind her with a bemused smile and a soft look in his eyes. I wonder what it would feel like to be looked at that way.

_Don't go there,_ says the voice in my head that sounds suspiciously like Kagami.

“Good morning!” Adrien says, and I wave at them. Alya just groans and slides into a chair, letting her head fall onto the table.

“Why are we up at this ungodly hour?”

“Don’t mind her,” Nino says to me. “She’s still bitter about having to work on a Saturday.”

I realize I haven't even thought about the fact that these people might have to leave for work at some point. I've overstayed my welcome.

_I should leave after breakfast,_ I write. Nino reads the note and looks concerned.

“You can stay longer if you'd like. Adrien is free all day today. Aren't you, Adrien?”

“What's that?” He asks, carefully flipping a perfect pancake.

“Marinette says she needs to leave soon.”

Alya picks her head up off the table and frowns. “How are you going to get home? Do you want us to call you a cab?”

Before I can respond, Adrien is setting plates of delicious-looking food on the table. He smiles warmly at me and says, “Nino's right. I've got no plans today. I could take you to see the lighthouse! And I can drive you home when you're ready to leave.”

All three of them look at me, waiting for my answer.

I fiddle with the pen for a second, thinking, then attempt a small smile and nod my head. Adrien's grin is huge as he serves us breakfast. It's simple fare, but seasoned by the friendly atmosphere and homey kitchen, the eggs and pancakes taste amazing.

I offer to help with the dishes, but Adrien won't hear of it.

“In this house, whoever cooks has to do the dishes. If that doesn't seem fair, blame Alya. We used to trade off but she made a habit of using as many pans as possible while cooking to 'prank’ us.” He makes air quotations and Alya snorts.

“It was hilarious while it lasted,” she says as she leaves the room with Nino.

I'm left sitting at the table alone, watching Adrien as he starts scrubbing a frying pan. His shirt is stretched across his back and I can see the movement of his muscles beneath it. Something about the sight makes me uncomfortably warm.

My chair makes a screeching sound as I push back from the table forcefully and get up. I shouldn't have agreed to stay any longer. I need to leave. I _could_ just leave. Nothing is tying me here, not like the way I'm tied to the Ocean.

Thinking of Her ruins the progress I've made toward blocking out her calls.

I should go.

Adrien turns to see what's wrong, gentle concern on his face. “Everything okay?”

I nod solemnly, point in the direction of the bathroom, and walk out. Several of the cats try to follow me into the tiled room but I block them with my leg and close the door.

This whole thing is a mistake. Getting attached to Bridgette was a mistake. Teaching in the deaf schools was a mistake. Maybe even choosing to become a siren was a mistake. Pestering my parents until they took me to America was _certainly_ a mistake. All of my bad decisions stretch out before me, a parade of shame and regret.

I look at myself in the mirror, trying to discern any answers my reflection might have. She stares back at me, offering no clues.

Maybe there aren't any right answers to be found. I take a deep breath and try to focus just on this moment. I can't go back. Not yet. I don't want to speak to Her. I don't want to be in Her waters knowing that Bridgette is a part of them now.

I could leave Adrien and his friends and go back to wandering in the woods, all alone… It's not a pleasant thought. I've promised to go to the lighthouse, and I will. Maybe it will be a good distraction.

I head to the guest bedroom only to find Adrien waiting just outside, cuddling Funky Winterbean in his arms.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

My eyes snap to his, confusion plain on my face.

He looks unsure of himself. “Your friend who...passed. I don't know. Everyone is different. I thought maybe you might want to talk about it, but we don't have to.”

I realize I _do_ want to tell him about Bridgette. Keeping my secrets has never been particularly hard, but now I wish I could tell this kind stranger everything. That's impossible, of course, but I could tell him a version of the truth.

We spend the next few hours talking (well, he talks and I write) on the living room couch with various cats curled up around and on us. I tell him what I can, saying I'm a teacher and one of my students passed away in an accident. He comforts me as best he can, and asks more questions about my family and where I live, questions I can't answer with any grain of truth. So I say that I'm not close with my family, hinting at some kind of falling out, and explain that I live alone. School is out for the summer so I don't have any responsibilities to return to.

This makes him sit a little straighter. “Well, you're always welcome here! I hate to think of you having to be alone at a time like this.”

I smile half-heartedly, not wanting to disappoint him but also not wanting to get his hopes up.

“Hey,” he says. “Just take it one day at a time. Life can be overwhelming even on the best days. Do you want to go on a walk to the lighthouse now?”

_It's within walking distance?_ I ask.

“Yeah! I was lucky to find a house so close to it. It was more than I could have asked for. I was actually on my way there last night when I...found you.”

He gives me an odd look, reminding me again how strange my situation must seem. I think he's going to press me for answers, but instead he says, “I think Alya has a pair of shoes she's never worn. I remember Nino being exasperated with her for buying them when she knew she wouldn't like them.”

He produces the shoes, which turn out to be an adorable pair of ballet flats that are a little big on me, but not so much I'll trip over them.

The trip to the lighthouse is a pleasant outing. The wind makes it too difficult to write on the sheets of paper I brought with me, so it's left to Adrien to carry the conversation. He tells me stories about his school days with Alya and Nino; some of them make me laugh so hard it becomes a true struggle not to make any noise. I find myself wishing I could have a real conversation with Adrien, could laugh out loud at his jokes and make him laugh at mine.

Throughout the trip, the Ocean's continued calls remind me who I really am, and bring back the memories of last night. I almost feel like I've betrayed Bridgette by being momentarily happy.

Adrien notices the shift in my mood and falls silent as we walk back to the house. Visiting the place that became a symbol of his parents’ love for each other… my chest aches. I like Adrien. I've worked with plenty of men in the deaf schools, but never felt any pull towards any of them. This is different. There's something there, in the air between us. A magnetic pull.

There's no point in even fantasizing about pursuing what is obviously a mutual attraction. Such things are still 20 years away for me.

When the trees clear and the house comes into view again, I notice that it is painted a lovely shade of light blue, and the front door is red. I stop, staring at it. It strikes me as familiar, somehow. Adrien turns to look at me questioningly.

_Isn't there a saying about blue houses with red doors?_ I write messily, balancing the paper on my palm to write.

He thinks for a moment. “I've only heard about red doors symbolizing hospitality. I chose the color on purpose for that reason.” Then he hits me with that winning smile and I think my own cheeks might be a little warm.

We walk inside and there are voices coming from the living room - more voices than just Alya and Nino. I can't help the way my body tenses up.

“I forgot Ivan and Mylène were coming over!” Adrien says. “Don't worry, you'll like them.”

Before I have time to respond, Alya bursts into the kitchen laughing. Seeing us, she exclaims, “They're back! Come meet Marinette, guys!”

I'm introduced to Ivan and Mylène, who are both very quiet but seem as kind as their friends. Nino explains that they live a few houses down and come over every Saturday evening for a movie night.

“We're watching Castaway,” Mylène says to me as the others start chatting loudly and gathering snacks. “Have you seen it?”

I shake my head no. I tend to avoid movies about the Ocean, especially ones involving plane crashes or sinking boats, but it looks like I'm going to get roped into this one.

“I saw it in theaters. It's a really good movie.” Mylène smiles at me, and I can't help but marvel at how I've stumbled onto such a sweet group of people.

The six of us head into the living room. Ivan and Mylène settle into the loveseat and Alya and Nino cuddle onto half the couch with Adrien on the other end. Then I have to make a decision: squish in next to Adrien, or sit on the floor?

Adrien sees my indecision, and his face falls a little as he realizes I'm hesitant to be so close to him. He forces a smile and says, “You sit here, Marinette. I'll grab a chair from the kitchen.”

Alya and Nino exchange a glance as he leaves the room. I sit, feeling guilty and uncomfortable.

We start the movie and the atmosphere in the room relaxes again. Zoey deigns to grace me with her presence again and petting her helps relieve some of my nerves as the plane on the screen begins to crash. I tell myself I can handle this, it's just a movie. But then the plane falls and Tom Hanks is trapped inside it as it fills with water.

The Ocean can't bring down planes. The sky and the weather aren't under her control. It ceases to matter, though, as I watch the actor portray a man drowning, terrified, fighting to survive. It's not real, but I might as well be watching the fate of so many people I've murdered.

Bridgette felt this fear, felt even more terror because someone she trusted _watched_ her struggle and did nothing to save her. How I wish I could have been like the man on the flight crew who gave Tom Hanks an oxygen mask and a life vest, who died protecting a stranger.

It's too much. Zoey hops off my lap as I get up and walk to the bathroom, hoping the others don't notice the stricken look on my face.

Safe inside the bathroom, I let the tears fall, scoffing at myself even as I do. Another breakdown? Another pity party? I'm disgusted with the person in the mirror, torn between grief and self-hatred. The thoughts in my head go around in the usual vicious cycle: I hate who I am and what I do, but I don't have a way to change it other than to give up and die.

I wallow in my misery for a few minutes, until I'm sure that awful scene must be over, then I wipe my tears and try to walk back to the living room as if I'm eager not to miss too much of the movie.

I'm a little _too_ fake-eager, and I crash right into Ivan, who is heading back from the kitchen. I don't feel pain of course, but I'm on edge and slamming into someone without any warning elicits a soft yelp from me.

Ivan hears me.

I watch in horror as he dumps the glass of water he's holding over his head, his eyes glazed. Oh dear god, what have I done?? We both freeze. From the living room, the movie is paused and Alya calls out, “You guys okay? What happened?”

Adrien is already out of his seat and coming toward us as my hands start to shake and my treacherous lips mouth _I'm sorry_ over and over. But Ivan is fine, if confused, as awareness comes back to him. He laughs self-deprecatingly.

“I'm sorry, I can be an oaf sometimes. Are you okay, Marinette?”

Adrien reaches us and touches my shoulder. I flinch. “It's okay,” he says soothingly. “It's just some water. No big deal.”

They can't know what's just happened, how close they were to tragedy. All my fault. I shouldn't be here.

“Are you hurt?” Adrien asks, worry in his voice now as he sees tears springing up in my eyes. I shake my head. “Come sit down in the kitchen. The others will handle the mess.”

He's right. Alya has already grabbed a towel and is mopping up the water. I see Ivan looking guilty and ashamed and it makes me feel even worse that he's going to blame himself for this.

“Here, sit. Take deep breaths. You're sure you're not hurt?” His hands are fluttering over my arms, as if he wants to check me over for wounds but isn't sure he's allowed. I'm focusing on holding back the sobs that want to escape. I can't let myself make any more mistakes.

Adrien hands me paper and a pen and I write, _I'm so sorry. I need to leave._

He looks hurt. “We're not mad at you, Marinette. It's just some spilled water.”

_I know. I'm sorry. I just need to go home._

“It's late now. Are you sure? Why don't you wait until morning and I can drive you wherever you need to go before I go to work?”

Well that won't do. I don't have anywhere _to_ go. But it will look suspicious if I just walk out of the house into the woods. Maybe the best thing would be to agree to stay the night and slip out when everyone is asleep.

So I nod and sniffle and he hands me a paper towel to wipe my eyes with.

“Did the movie upset you?”

I look up at him, surprised.

“I wasn't going to say anything, but I noticed when you got up how sad you looked. If you don't want to finish watching it, that's okay.”

I'm touched, to be honest. That he noticed and cared. I write, _It's okay. I can finish watching. It was just...that one part._

Again, there's a speculative look in his eyes that makes me nervous. Like he's getting more information than I meant to give him.

Within a few minutes, we're all settled back down watching the movie again, as if nothing happened. And I guess to them, it seems like nothing much did. My mind, however, can't focus on the events on the screen. It's too focused on the implications of this evening. I've never had a slip-up. The only time a human has ever heard my voice has been during a feeding. I never knew exactly what would happen if only a small sound slipped out, as opposed to the continual singing of four sirens.

Now that I've calmed down, I feel a bit in awe. No one is dead. No one knows my secret.

But in the end, it doesn't change anything. Tonight, when the house is dark and quiet, I will leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asdfw;eo0sdfnklas;j  
> writing is hell


	8. Hamartia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamartia - flaw in a character leading to his downfall.
> 
> And I was thrashing on the line  
> Somewhere between  
> Desperate and divine  
> I can't keep calm, I can't keep still  
> Persephone will have her fill
> 
> -Florence and the Machine

 

 

When the movie is over, Ivan and Mylène say their goodbyes and leave. To my surprise, Nino and Alya aren't heading to bed.

“It's Saturday night,” Alya says as she puts her shoes on. “Nino has a weekly gig at the club.”

Oh, right. The drag show.

“You're welcome to come if you'd like,” she says with a grin, clearly knowing I'll decline the offer.

_I'm pretty tired,_ I write. _Maybe another time_.

It takes me off guard that I feel sad about this lie. Despite the awful circumstances, I do like these people, and spending time with them has been nice. Almost like being a normal person.

Alya and Nino go, leaving Adrien and I alone again. He picks up one of the cats whose names I don't know and pets it, seeming to be thinking about his words before he says them. I don't think I want to hear anything that he's nervous to say, so I write, _And who is this handsome beast?_

He can't hold back his goofy smile upon reading that. “Did you forget my name already? I'm Adrien.” My mouth pops open and I roll my eyes. What a dork!

_I meant the cat!!_

He's far too pleased about having gotten a reaction from me, but doesn't push it. Instead he pulls his shoulders back and proclaims, “This is Lord Grumpus of Bootshire.” His shoulders fall and that grin is back. “Boots for short.”

This gets a breathy laugh from me. Where does he come up with these things?

“The names are inspired by all kinds of things,” he says, as if responding to my thoughts. “Conroy Windemere, who you probably haven't seen yet, is named after a road in Orlando. He mostly goes by Conman, and if any of your stuff ever goes missing, you'll know why. Mostly I just try to think of the most ridiculous names possible.”

_Why?_   I ask. I've never had a pet, but Bridgette's dog had a normal name. Was it Suzy? Shelley?

“Why not?” Adrien winks at me and puts Boots down. When he straightens back up, that introspective look is back in his eyes. He starts to say something, then hesitates. I still don't want to know what's on his mind, so I yawn silently and point to the guest bedroom.

“Right. Goodnight, Marinette.” He seems embarrassed, perhaps sensing that I'm avoiding whatever it is he wants to say.

Late into the night, I lie awake and wait for Alya and Nino to come home and go to sleep so I can leave. I keep telling myself I should just go now, that there's very little chance of running into them on my way out. Lingering is a bad idea. Again and again, I get up to leave, then sit back down on the bed, thinking I'll wait just another half hour.

It doesn't seem right to disappear and leave Adrien alone in the house.

What a sentimental fool I am.

They don't come home until four in the morning, and they don't go to bed right away. They make a meal, then sit at the kitchen table talking. When they finally make their way up the stairs, I hear Adrien greet them on his way down. 

I've missed my chance.

_Idiot_ , I say to myself. I'll just have to stick around a little longer.

Bored of sitting alone in the room, I decide to “wake up” as well. When I come into the kitchen, Adrien gives me a warm smile, then looks worried.

“Did we wake you up?”

I shake my head and sit down across from him. My pen and papers are already sitting there, the pages almost full. I write in an unused corner, _What are your plans for today?_

He looks regretful. “I have to work today, unfortunately.” Then his eyes light up again. “You could come with me, if you wanted! It's not very interesting work but it's a nice day and you can get a nice view of the town from the water.”

_The water? What do you do?_

“I work on a lobster boat.” He grins. “My father would have been appalled by it, but it makes me happy. I'm using the license of a man whose family has trapped lobsters here for generations. His son didn't want to continue the family tradition, so I'm doing the work for now. If you wanted to join me, I could let you borrow a pair of my rubber overalls - you'd look cute in them.” He laughs and keeps talking, but I'm not listening.

He works on the Ocean. She's still calling for me every few minutes or so, alternating from soft pleas and apologies to demands that I let Her know if I'm okay. If any part of me touches Her waters, She'll know where I am. And I don't think She would approve of me being so close to these humans, risking discovery. She could swallow the boat whole. My breath catches at the thought of my foolishness costing Adrien his life.

He stops in the middle of saying something about how many traps he set out two days ago and reaches out to touch my hand. Without realizing, I've been gripping the pen so hard it's in danger of breaking. I flinch in surprise and he backs off immediately.

“Sorry, I - um, are you okay?”

I let out a little humorless laugh, just a quick exhalation without any of my voice in it. I've never been less okay.

Trying to come up with an excuse for my reaction, I write, _I can't swim._

“Oh! Well, I won't pressure you to come on the boat, but I can assure you there isn't much chance of falling in. It's a pretty big vessel. I barely even get wet most days. There's a crank that pulls the traps in.”

Honestly, I _want_ to spend more time with him. And this might be my last chance to do so. Really, I shouldn't have stayed as long as I have already. I have to leave tonight, no matter what.

So I take a calculated risk. I'll be very careful not to touch Her waters. It does occur to me that if _Adrien_ puts a hand or foot in and he's thinking about me, She might see his thoughts and do something drastic. In that case, I _should_ go on the boat with him today, to make sure he doesn't touch the water. And if he does, I can distract him somehow so that his thoughts won't be on me. After I leave, the Ocean won't have any reason to be paying attention to this little stretch of beach. Adrien should be safe.

A few hours later, I'm standing on the deck of a pretty red boat, feeling ridiculous in a pair of huge rubber overalls. Adrien's affectionate smile when he saw me in them made me feel a little better, but couldn't totally alleviate the feeling that I'm ready to play the clown at a children's party. It's a perfect June day, windy enough to keep us cool under the summer sun. Adrien shows me how he finds his own traps amongst the other trappers’, pointing out his green and black buoys that are a unique signature. Then a crank pulls up the trap and Adrien measures each lobster inside.

“If they're too small, I have to throw them back in. But they also have to be thrown out if they're too big. The idea is to make sure there will be plenty of lobsters in the future. Do you want to try measuring one?”

He looks hopeful, so I agree. He stands behind me and wraps his hand around mine to show me how to use the measuring tool, placing it near the head of the lobster then lowering it gently until it touches the tail. I’m holding my breath, scolding myself internally for feeling flustered over this small bit of contact. His hand is warm and big, enveloping mine completely. For a brief moment, I think about how his arms would feel around me.

_Stop that_ , I tell myself. Adrien has gone still. I turn to look at him and my breath rushes out of me. His eyes are wide and…

He’s looking at my mouth.

He's leaning in.

No. No, this can't happen. I turn my head away from him and pretend to cough. His hand lets go of the measuring tool and he takes a step back.

“Right, um, that lobster was too small. I'll just…” There's a splash as he drops it back into the Ocean. Adrien clears his throat. “So...I was wondering if you could teach me some sign language.”

And just like that, that almost-kiss is brushed away. As he works, I sign for him, and he makes me laugh by asking how to sign each of the cats’ names. Near the end of the workday, as he's placing empty traps back into the water, he asks if I've ever tried lobster. His mock outrage when I shake my head has me giggling into my shoulder, trying desperately not to laugh with my voice.

“Would you like to try some? There's a great little restaurant in town that has the best lobster rolls you'll ever find.”

His neck has turned red again, and I'm not sure why. I sign _yes_ , one of the first signs he asked to learn, and he beams at me.

Alya is at the house when we arrive back, and a strange light appears in her eyes when Adrien tells her we'll be going out to dinner. Very casually, she asks me, “Would you like to borrow some clothes from me, Marinette? I could do your hair and makeup as well.”

And there it is again, the blush creeping up Adrien’s face. That's when I realize I've inadvertently agreed to a _date_.

Oh dear.

Before I can answer her, Adrien is excusing himself, saying he has some errands to run and that he'll be back in a little while. Alya laughs aloud when he's gone.

“I've never seen him like this before,” she says, then gives me a calculating look. “Please don't hurt him.”

I don't have a response for that. I don't _want_ to hurt Adrien, but if he thinks this thing between us is going anywhere, hurting him is inevitable. I shrug helplessly and Alya nods, as if she understands.

“He's always rushing into things, giving too much of himself away. Like what happened with Lila, ugh!” Alya makes a gagging noise. I look at her with wide eyes and write,

_Who is Lila?_

“I'll tell you all about her if you let me give you a makeover. Deal?” She sticks her hand out, confident I won't be able to resist, and she's right. But it's only curiosity that makes me accept the bargain. It's definitely _not_ a desire to get prettied up for this possible date with Adrien.

Definitely not.

That said, Alya is good at what she does. I shower off the smell of salt water and she styles my hair, blow-drying it then straightening it until it shines in a silky waterfall down my shoulders. She remarks on the fact that not a single strand of it ended up in her hairbrush, and I write down a half-hearted excuse about Asian hair being stronger. The truth is that every part of a siren’s body is indestructible. I have a fingernail that's longer than the others that I haven't been able to clip in over eighty years.

“I'm not sure how well my clothes will fit you, but you're welcome to look through my closet. I have some stuff I've outgrown in a box.” She digs through piles of shoes until a cardboard box is unearthed. “Ha! These are from high school. I don't think they're too out-dated though.”

I rummage through the selection, not hopeful of finding anything suited to me. When I hold up a jean miniskirt to my waist to check the size, Alya coos in delight.

“Oh, you'd look so cute in that! I have the perfect top for it, too,” she says as she runs over to a dresser and starts looking through its drawers. “Here!” She produces a red tank top edged with delicate lace. It looks like lingerie to me, but maybe I'm just old-fashioned. “It's stretchy, so it should fit you. Try it on!”

She leaves and I change into the outfit, scandalized by my reflection in the floor-length mirror. I feel half-naked! I can't possibly go out in public showing this much skin. Alya knocks and I open the door for her sheepishly, jumping in surprise when she screeches.

“ _Perfect!_ You're going to give him a heart attack.”

_You don't think this is too revealing?_ I write.

“Oh, please! Your honor will remain intact, I promise. Come sit down and I'll do your makeup.”

As she brushes various powders and pigments into my skin, she tells me about Adrien’s crazy ex-girlfriend, Lila.

“She was great at first, of course. Adrien wouldn't knowingly date a lying, manipulative, selfish, single-minded _psycho_ \- ugh! I can't even think about her without wanting to punch a wall. Here, tilt your head up a little. That's better. So, yeah, she joined our school and immediately latched on to him. We were okay with it until she started getting really possessive and jealous.” Alya stops what she's doing to laugh. “Jealous of Adrien spending time with _me_. Can you imagine? As if I could ever see him as anything but a brother. Things only got worse from there. She liked to pretend to be all understanding and sympathetic about his mother's health issues, but she kept putting these huge guilt trips on him every time he had to cancel a date. And Adrien, being the lovable idiot he is, fell for it. He was eaten up with guilt, torn between his mom and his girlfriend.”

I make an appropriately scandalized expression and Alya nods. “I know, right? She's just the worst. And Adrien would have put up with so much from her if Nino and I hadn't staged an intervention. We convinced him to let her go, and she would have kicked up a huge fuss except that the car accident happened and even she knew better than to mess with him then. She did try to win him back a few times, but then we moved here and haven't heard anything from her since. There! You look amazing.”

I'm still reeling from the story as she produces a hand mirror with a flourish, so my gasp of surprise at the face looking back at me is genuine. Bridgette and I - the thought sends a sharp stab of pain into my chest - we practiced putting makeup up on each other a few times, but the results were laughable. _These_ results are incredible.

My eyes look bigger and bluer than they ever have, my lips are plump and shiny, my cheeks flushed with a healthy glow. I grab my paper and write,

_You're so talented!_

Alya grins at me. “Well, it _is_ my job after all. I'm a makeup artist!”

_Do you do Nino’s makeup for him?_

She gives me an odd look and asks, “Nino’s makeup?”

_For the drag shows._

Alya looks confused for a second longer, then collapses onto the bed in laughter. “Oh. My. God!!” she shouts between fits of hysteria. “Oh my God! Wait till I tell him! Oh my God!!”

All I can do is sit there, feeling embarrassed and a little hurt by her reaction.

“I'm sorry,” she gasps as the laughter starts to subside. She's actually wiping tears from her eyes. “You must be so confused.” Another round of giggles. “Nino is the DJ at the drag shows. He doesn't participate in them. Not that I would have a problem with it, but heaven knows the boy can barely walk in sneakers. The thought of him in heels and a skirt!”

And then she's laughing again and I'm joining her.

“What's so funny?” Adrien calls from the bottom of the stairs, having come home without us realizing.

Alya stops laughing immediately and fixes a few strands of my hair. She grins wickedly and gestures for me to walk out of the room. I can't help but feel nervous. It's not like I've never dressed up or felt pretty before, but never with a specific person in mind. This is so far out of my realm of experience. I'm not sure how to act.

Then I remind myself that this isn’t a date, or anything like a date. It’s just dinner. That’s all.

Not a date.

I take a deep breath and walk to the top of the stairwell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've hidden some names in this chapter! Lila   
> ([Lilafly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilafly)) and Hari ([HariWrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HariWrites)) are two very wonderful people who I adore. You should definitely check out their work!
> 
> I'm not very proud of my writing lately, but the only way to get better is to practice, so I'm just going to keep chugging along. If you've made it this far, thank you! The next chapter is going to be the hardest to write of the whole story, so I'm not sure how long it will take me to complete it. On the bright side, once it's done, the rest will follow fairly easily - hopefully.


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